


Random Strangers

by MothMeetsFlame



Series: How Far We Go [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Dubious Consent, First Time, M/M, Pre-Canon, Rough Sex, prostitute!Reid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 05:49:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MothMeetsFlame/pseuds/MothMeetsFlame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer Reid sells himself on the streets of California. His first client: Jason Gideon of the FBI. How Reid and Gideon really met...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Random Strangers

**Author's Note:**

> Not too sure about the archive warning for this one so I went with the dub-con tag just in case. Technically, it's consensual, but I'd say 'situational non-con.' Enjoy ;)

_"Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far it is possible to go."_

_—_ T.S. Eliot

 

Despite the chill in the air and the lack of clothing, Spencer wasn’t cold. He’d been out here enough that he’d acclimated to the temperature. He gave his chilled skin nothing more than a fleeting thought before planting himself on a corner between two alleyways with three other women and one man. He didn’t know their real names, of course. No one knew anyone’s real names out here. It was one of the first things he’d done. Choosing a name was hard. He talked to Chastity, street-walking veteran, before he’d done anything else and she told him. First, a name. Second, a pimp. Third, the rules.

The name had taken the longest, but according to Chastity, it was the most important. “ _A name can make or break you, kid. You can be the worst lay ever, but so long as the John remembers your name, you’ll have a good business going.”_ So Spencer thought about his name. He didn’t want anything to foreign or strange. He turned inward, looking for something that he could think of as him, but whenever he did that, the only name he found was Spencer. It was Pixie who gave him his name. Simple, yet something that would bring him quite a few more customers. He shivered in disgust even as he chastised himself for not thinking of appealing to that specific niche of clientele. Danny. His name was Danny. He looked much younger than his nineteen years and, if he dressed just right, he was sure he could cover the fourteen to seventeen age group while still appealing to those who wanted someone of age.

Spencer had already decided against a pimp. The others all looked at him as if it was only a matter of time, but he knew the risks. He’d done more research on this form of employment than he’d done on his first dissertation. There were quite a few more rewards to having a pimp, but he’d come up another course of action. Besides, if he was going to sleep with anyone, it was going to be well worth the time and the pain. He’d been exposed to enough pedophiles to know that he drew their attention more often than not and anyone who would take him on would expect him to put out more than he’d be willing to. For now, at least, he didn’t need or want a pimp.

The rules, as Chastity and countless others had taught him, were nonnegotiable. That didn’t always mean that they would be followed, but the fact that they were even in place would make a huge difference. Condoms: always. Real names: never. Cash: up front. Other than that, it was up to him. Prices, acts, scenes were all at his disclosure. Again, he was told, that didn’t mean that everyone would follow his rules. He knew there would be beatings and pain. Sadists often took their pleasure in rentboys who wouldn’t take their matters to the police. Spencer was counting on his profiling abilities to help with spotting risky Johns.

So Spencer had dressed in a too-tight white t-shirt and jeans that hung just low enough on his hips, laced his chucks over his mismatched socks— _ingenious_ Chastity had said—and left his empty apartment for work. That was how he needed to think about it: work. It was nothing more than that.

It was cold enough out that he could see Barbie clenching her faux fir coat tighter around her shoulders, not that it covered much to begin with. Spencer didn’t mind the chill. It kept him alert to the area around him.

A white truck drove slowly past, ogling the girls—and two men—on the street before turning the corner. Spencer took note of the way Barbie opened her coat more, the way Cherry smiled innocently, and how everyone moved just slightly to make themselves more appealing. Spencer didn’t move an inch from where he was. He leaned loosely against the brick wall of the rundown apartment complex, pouting slightly to show off his thick— _cocksucking_ , Pixie had described them—lips. His shoulders were hunched in just enough to make him seem vulnerable, but not enough to attract the wrong type of predator. He stood pigeon toed with his hands behind his back and his long hair swung over his eyes to keep everyone from seeing the intelligence that lit them.

Spencer didn’t know whether it was the fact that he was one of only two men on this block or the care he’d taken to make himself sexually appealing, but when a blue suburban pulled up to the curb, it was him that the man called for.

Spencer quickly scanned the man, checking for the hidden rage and flippant smile of someone who would want to hurt him, not just fuck him. The man was older, as he knew most of his clients would be, possibly in his late fifties. His smile was paternal, welcoming, but without the predatory gleam that he was expecting. It was possible that the man had learned to hide it well enough to fool Spencer, but if that was true, what else was he hiding?

Spencer walked slowly toward the car, easily seeing the best way to play him. _“We’re in the pleasure business. You wanna be successful, please everyone who comes to you. It’s easy so long as you can be what they need.”_ The passenger window rolled down and Spencer watched the man with hopeful eyes. This man was a protector, someone who, even when he was fucking Spencer, would try his best to see it as a way of helping them.  As long as Spencer played into that fantasy, he should be fine.

Before he’d made it three steps, Chastity’s hand came out to grab his arm, effectively stopping him.

“Cop,” she said.

Spencer shook his head. “Off duty FBI,” he told her.

She looked curiously at him.

“I assume that he was consulting on the case with the stabbing victims up town. They arrested their first and only suspect this afternoon and I’m sure they have the right man. John is just looking to relieve some post-case tension.”

Chastity’s doubt was clear on her face, but another John was showing interest and she’d already done her job by warning him. She left and Spencer turned back to his own client who’d been too far away to hear anything said during their hushed exchange. Spencer chewed on his bottom lip as he strolled up to John’s window, focusing now on becoming what the man needed.

John paid for the first two hours up front, opening his wallet and handing over five-hundred dollars. Spencer caught sight of his driver’s license by accident, unable to keep himself from reading the name: Jason Gideon. He didn’t mind knowing the man’s real name as long as he kept his own hidden.

Within fifteen minutes, Spencer was pleased to admit that he knew what the man needed and just how to treat him.

“D –daddy,” Spencer stuttered when they entered the hotel room. It took some work to hide his disgust with a veil of innocence, but he did it. It helped that this was his first, that he really was struggling and innocent in this case.

“You haven’t been a very good boy, have you?” Jason asked. “Talking to strangers can get you in a lot of trouble. I think I might have to teach you a lesson.”

“Daddy?” he asked more confidently when he watched the older man fish something out of the bedside drawer. The room had been prepaid, possibly because Jason was staying there, but most likely it was just so that no one saw the FBI agent with a whore, and a male one at that.

Jason turned around with a small bottle of lube—not that Spencer needed it; he’d prepared himself well for tonight—and a condom—definitely a must.

“I think you need someone to remind you of the consequences of your actions, young man. On your knees.”

Spencer kneeled on the floor of the carpet, adjusting his legs in case he was there for a while, and looked up at Jason with an expression expectant of punishment. Jason didn’t disappoint. In seconds, his half-hard cock was freed from his jeans and guided to Spencer’s mouth. Spencer took a moment to roll a condom over the man’s erection, knowing some diseases could transfer also with oral sex. Luckily, Jason didn’t feel the need to protest.

“Open,” he ordered.

Spencer complied, tucking his teeth under his lips so they didn’t accidentally scrape.

“Get me hard,” he said in the same tone Spencer assumed one would tell a child to get the belt they were to be struck with.

Spencer didn’t waste any time. Despite his misgivings about what he was doing, there was no hesitation in his actions. Immediately, his mouth was on the man’s cock, suckling the tip and taking care to tongue the underside of the rapidly-swelling head. He’d never had anything of a sexual nature in his mouth before this moment, but he’d done enough research that he was sure that it would be good for the man, if not amazing.

“More,” the man ordered and Spencer took him deeper in his mouth.

He sucked him down an inch at a time until he was sure he couldn’t take any more then pushed further still. When he felt as if he was going to gag, he pulled back to the tip, running his tongue along the areas where he knew the most sensitive nerves were. He was rewarded with low moans of pleasure. He sank down on his cock again, taking him into his throat. Spencer bobbed his head in time with Jason’s minuscule thrusts. His jaw ached, his throat hurt, his feet were going numb, but he kept at it until he felt Jason’s hand on the back of his head forcing, forcing him to the naval.

Spencer nearly panicked. He couldn’t breathe. His throat was contracting, trying to push the foreign object out. He gagged and sputtered. It was only with a split-second realization that he didn’t bite down. Then Jason released him and Spencer pulled off, heaving and trying to pull in large amounts of air. He coughed and his throat felt hoarse and dry. But as much as he hoped the man was finished with his mouth, he would prefer it to what he knew was coming next.

“Strip.”

Spencer wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and did as the man ordered. He took off his clothes quickly—this wasn’t a man who would be into a slow tease—and stood shyly for Jason’s enjoyment. Sharp eyes roamed his bare skin, flicking rapidly between his face and his cock lying flaccid between his legs.

“Here,” Jason said, handing Spencer a small bottle of lube. “Get ready.”

Spencer opened the lube, quickly making sure it was water-soluble so it wouldn’t disintegrate the latex condom, and coated the cock generously. He may have prepared, but fingers were nothing compared to a grown man’s cock and he knew that, even with the lube and the preparation, it was going to hurt.

“On the bed. Turn around.”

Spencer kneeled on the bed on all fours, ass up in the air. He couldn’t see Jason, but he felt the bed dip when he climbed up behind him. There was barely a nudge to signal his intent before the bulbous cockhead was forcing its way through the tight ring of muscle. Spencer couldn’t help but cry out in pain and buck away, but Jason’s hands held tight to his hips, using them as leverage to thrust inside, pinioning Spencer beneath him.

Spencer held the sobs deep in his chest at the too thick member piercing him deeper than he thought anyone could take him, but he couldn’t help the steady flows of tears coursing down his cheeks. Each thrust was hard and fast, spearing him to the hilt with quick drives of his hips. Despite the pain, Spencer’s own cock began to harden after one skewed push stimulated his prostate. That one press was all it took. Spencer pulled his mind away from the pain, away from the heaving man above him and the moans of pleasure he was releasing, away from the smell of the dank hotel room and the buzzing thoughts and statistics rolling through his head, and focused instead on controlling his body.

He angled his hips, intent on finding the perfect spot to— _Ah!_ As much as he hated it, the pleasure took away enough of the pain that it was worth it. He pushed back into each of the man’s hard thrusts, gasping in shock whenever the tip of the man’s cock grazed his prostate. Jason became more vocal and he sped up, taking Spencer harder and deeper as time went on. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, Spencer knew that forty-five minutes of the man’s time was up. He didn’t know where the time went, but he was happy that he was nearly halfway done.

The moaning of the man inside of him increased to loud pants and cries of pleasure whenever Spencer moved just right. Sensing that Jason was close, Spencer clenched his muscles, tightening his channel. That was all the motivation Jason needed to come. Spencer helped him through his orgasm, making sure to roll his hips in the way Jason seemed to like as his bucking stuttered and became less and less focused while he came.

Jason pulled himself from Spencer, causing a wince from the younger man as he collapsed next to him on the bed.

Spencer wasn’t unsure of what to do. He knew the man now, knew what he needed. Spencer lied down next to him, cuddling bashfully under his arm. He curled himself close to the man’s chest, putting his thumb close enough to his mouth that it looked as if he’d suck on it. He let one of his sobs out and a few more tears coursed down his cheeks, landing on the man’s skin. He didn’t need to fake that much at least, though the next words out of his mouth had shame eating at him in a way nothing else ever had.

“I’m s –sorry, Daddy,” he stuttered. “I didn’t m –mean to make you mad.”

Jason’s hand rubbed soothing circles in Spencer’s back. “You think you’ve learned your lesson, Danny?”

Spencer nodded into his side, remembering the pseudonym he’d given.

“Use your words,” the man chastised.

“Y –yes, Daddy.”

“Good boy. I think I’ve punished you enough for today. Let me see you,” Jason said as he rolled on his side and propped himself on an elbow. His other hand trailed down Spencer’s bare chest, tweaking his nipples alternatively until they were sensitively stiff nubs. Spencer arched his back and moaned convincingly like he was supposed to, though the movement was more strange than pleasurable, and he held in his sigh of relief when Jason moved on. Fingers probed lightly at Spencer’s ribs and Jason frowned slightly, but didn’t comment on his thinness. Spencer took note of that to decipher later should Jason become a regular—not that he thought it was likely seeing as he was only in town for the single case.

The hand traveled down to his navel, tickling him lightly, and Spencer twitched accordingly. A finger trailed up his hard shaft to gather a bead of precome at the tip before moving lower still. His scrotum was completely ignored as the same finger breached his sensitive hole. Spencer hid the wince of pain, masking it with a loud moan instead. Jason knew what he was doing, Spencer could tell. One finger became two, stretching him slightly wider, but it was nothing compared to the cock that had speared him only minutes ago. The fingers curled and probed, trying to find his prostate. Spencer couldn’t contain the gasp and the buck of his hips when he did.

“That’s a good boy,” Jason said soothingly. He changed the angle of his fingers to massage around the nub, just enough to stimulate it, but not enough to cause the involuntary buck of his hips and wanton moans. “Stroke yourself.”

Despite the softness of his voice, Spencer knew an order when he heard one. He reached for his cock immediately and gripped it in his hand, moving slowly up and down the shaft, twisting when he reached the tip. He slid his eyes closed and parted his mouth, letting his tongue peek out to touch his lips. He knew what he looked like. It was an image he’d practiced in the mirror for occasions such as this. When the man drew in a stuttered breath, Spencer increased the speed, stroking himself in earnest. The endorphins coursing through his system at the pleasure masked the pain he knew he should be feeling and, with every stroke, he came closer and closer to release.

“Daddy, please,” he said to stave off his pending orgasm.

“Go ahead, son. Come for me.” The order was emphasized by a firm press directly against his prostate and Spencer was done. His release flowed, coating his hand in spurts. His breath hitched in his throat and his body tensed at the overwhelming pleasure of it, despite his hesitations.

When Spencer opened his eyes, he saw the man looking at his come-covered hand with disappointment.

“S –sorry, Daddy,” Spencer forced out, his own disgust barely hidden as he stuttered the repulsive nickname for the sixth time that night. “I m –made a mess.”

The man’s smile was reassuring and Spencer couldn’t help but shiver at the paternal tone his voice adopted when he responded, “it’s alright. I’ll find something to clean us up.”

Jason left Spencer alone in the bed as he entered the bathroom, presumably to find a wet washcloth.

Spencer looked at the clock again, surprised that there was only twenty minutes left of Jason’s time. There wouldn’t be time for much more, possibly some nuzzling or cuddling. If the older man rebounded, Spencer may need to give one last blowjob, but that was unlikely with his age and the time it had taken to bring him to orgasm the first time. Then again, he knew the man had been relatively close the first time Spencer had sucked him, only pulling him off to come in his ass. Information on age and its link to the male libido filled his mind, keeping him from having to think about what he’d just done.

Jason returned in under a minute with a washcloth that he used to tenderly wipe the mess from Spencer. Spencer smiled when he realized he’d been right in his profile of the man. He was playing the caretaker, even after he’d fucked someone who didn’t appear any older than fifteen. He turned that smile up to Jason, making sure to crinkle his eyes and to keep it as boyish as possible, and gave him only a second to see it before he threw his arms around the older man.

“Thank you, Daddy,” Spencer whispered as gratefully as possible. “Sorry I was bad. I’ll be better, I promise.”

He was rewarded with a soft chuckle and a light pat on the back. Spencer didn’t cringe at the contact, but it was a close thing.

“I’m sure you will,” Jason admonished. “I trust that you’ve learned your lesson.”

Spencer nodded into the man’s neck, pressing a light kiss there as well because the situation seemed to call for it.

Jason left the hotel room three minutes before his time was up. He told Spencer that the room was paid through the night and left the key behind on the bedside table. Spencer waited a few minutes to make sure he wasn’t coming back before he locked himself in the bathroom. He turned the shower on as hot as it could go and sat in the tub while torrents of water pelted him. He wasn’t dirty. He’d showered before he went out on the street, and the condoms and the washcloth removed most of the traces of sex he had on him. He was a little sweaty, but it wasn’t so much that he needed to bathe himself.

It wasn’t the physical dirt that he wanted to rid himself of, but the psychological dirt. He knew he wasn’t clean anymore. What he’d done, _selling himself_ , was the lowest he could get in his mind. It didn’t matter why he’d done it, only that he had. There had been other options and, despite how much Spencer tried to convince himself that there hadn’t been, he’d _chosen_ this. He’d chosen to be used like this, to objectify himself in the worst possible way. He’d let this man fuck him, had called him daddy and sought his approval, sought to _please_ him, like some sick and twisted human lapdog.

The first sob clawed its way out of his throat, muffled only by the sound of water hitting his skin. He curled in on himself, shivering at what he’d let happen. The tears blended in with the water so well that he couldn’t tell how steadily they flowed. He sat like that until the hot water was gone, arms around his knees, sobbing against the wall of the shower. When the water was too cold for him to stay, he pulled himself up on wobbly legs and set himself to rights.

He wiped all traces of water from his body, dressed in the clothes he’d arrived in, and laced his chucks back on his feet. The money he’d gotten from Jason was safely tucked away in a hidden compartment in the sole of his shoe. He’d take the extra few minutes on the way back to his corner to stash the money in case something happened later that night.

Spencer did have a choice in this. Despite his misgivings about selling himself, despite the pain he went through, despite the shame he felt with every step, he knew it was worth it. He had goals, dreams, things he aspired to. He wanted to reach those goals more than anything. If that meant getting fucked by random strangers to achieve them, so be it.

Random strangers was what he expected, but random strangers wasn’t what he got. Four weeks—and two more visits from his first John much to Spencer’s surprise—later, he was introduced to the professor who was taking over at Caltech for Dr. Julianne Quinn while she was on maternity leave. Jason Gideon, former FBI profiler for the BAU out of Quantico, came in to fill that position. The second Spencer walked into the lecture hall, he felt the profiler’s eyes on him. He met the man’s gaze once or twice, but, thankfully, the older man was set on feigning ignorance.

If he thought that Jason would stop seeing him once he realized he was his new TA, Spencer was sorely mistaken.

“You lied to me,” Jason said in that paternally chiding voice.

“I –I –“

“Quiet,” he ordered as he fucked him, harder and rougher than the first time. Even with weeks of practice, Spencer was having just as much trouble taking the man as he’d always had. “You lied to me, Danny. Or should I call you Spencer?” His name was punctuated with a particularly brutal thrust of his hips.

Spencer cried out, angering Jason. The man’s hand came down hard on Spencer’s ass, spanking him for his disobedience.

“I said quiet. You’re going to take it, Spencer, and when I’m done, you’re going to get me hard again using that pretty mouth of yours and I’m going to come again from that. Maybe then you’ll learn the value of honesty. Understand?”

“Y –yes, D –Daddy,” Spencer said between sobs.

“That’s a good boy.”

And three years later, when Spencer became Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid, and a tough case headed their way, he knew what Jason needed and he knew who the man would go to, to get it from.

“You rushed into the field today without thinking of the consequences,” Jason said from the doorway of the hotel room they were sharing. And Spencer knew what it meant.

He wanted it to stop, wanted to tell someone, anyone, what Jason wanted from him even though it’d been _years_ since he’d done that. But then he looked at his job, his _dream_ that came true, and he realized that telling someone would make him lose everything he’d worked so hard for. Instead, he looked at the floor, letting the seconds pass while he tried to think of something to get him out of what was coming, but then Jason ordered, “answer me.”

And that was all it took to force Spencer to his knees because both Jason and Spencer knew that he wouldn’t take the way out if it meant losing his job in the BAU.

“I’m sorry, Daddy,” Spencer choked out. “I didn’t mean it.” And shameful tears poured down his cheeks as he realized Jason wouldn't know how much he didn't want this when he technically never said no.

 

_“You only cry for help if you believe that there's help to cry for.”_

― Wentworth Miller

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first in the "How Far We Go" series. Other installments coming soon and don't forget to comment :)


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